


Kind Eyes and Heavy Skies

by hollowbirds (torturousthings)



Series: Everything Seems To Be Estranged [4]
Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, F/M, Falling In Love, Heartbreak, M/M, hence the capital H, is the girl from Gray, okay so the original female character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-22
Updated: 2017-09-22
Packaged: 2019-01-03 23:53:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12157371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/torturousthings/pseuds/hollowbirds
Summary: Pride was Her first lover; I came second. Always.or, Pete's ficlet.





	Kind Eyes and Heavy Skies

**Author's Note:**

> i finally got around to finish the third ficlet for [Everything Seems To Be Estranged!](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10788774)
> 
> this is Pete's story. guess it kind of explains why he's the way he is. 
> 
> song for this ficlet: [Salt](https://youtu.be/TzR7kMRm05o) by Thomston

There are nights where I still wake up in a cold sweat, nights where it seems like I’m taken right back to when she left me, where she left me, on the side of a metaphorical highway like a dog she didn’t want anymore. Endless nights that were somehow always concluded by an empty bed and a frantic pulse, by Her name whispered like a mantra, like a curse, sticking to my sweat-soaked skin until the first rays of sun made their first attempts at drying it. They never did. It’s still always there, underlying, waiting for the right time to pop up again. 

 

Insomnia, the doctor said. 

 

Yeah, it was that. A pretty word to sum up the tears, the rage and the begging that took over every night, as if those weren’t my fault, but this… thing’s. Insomnia’s. The tenth Muse, presiding over broken hearts and hollowed souls, now watched over me, taking over my nights like they were hers. 

 

As for Her, she never apologised. Of course she wouldn’t. 

 

Pride was Her first lover; I came second. Always. 

 

Until I didn’t anymore. 

 

I'd given Her... everything. Because that's what you do. That's what soulmates do. 

 

Logically, I thought she had too. I’m a logical guy, when it all comes down to it. I give, she gives back; most people call that trust, I called that commitment. She called it neither because she hadn’t given back at all. I was a blind idiot. A lovestruck fool.

 

I'd love to say that it was easy; that I smiled and pulled through, clenching my jaw. But the truth lies in those sleepless nights and not in how many teeth my grins reveal. 

 

Our fight echoes in my head sometimes, still, Her cheeks an angry red from the blood whose crimson tint didn’t turn out to be my doing. The happiness comes back to me in sickening waves, the way I’d felt when she came to me, finger bleeding from the glass shards she’d been picking up after breaking my favourite mug now a constant knot in the pit of my stomach. The scarlet drop clung to Her index, a beautiful, smooth bead of colour against the paleness of Her skin, key to my future, our future. 

 

What turned out to be their future. 

 

I had it all planned out, day after day. Us in fifty years, grey haired, sitting together as our grandkids chase each other around. Her eyes framed by glasses but not having lost any of their sparkle, just like our blood wouldn’t lose colour as long as we were alive, together. 

 

That was it. The sign that we were meant to be, that she was mine and I was Hers, for as long as we lived. It was perfect. 

 

But it seems as if I’m too human to want perfect things. Godly things. She was a goddess to me. Her body was a temple I worshipped, Her mind the beliefs I held until the very end, when someone else came in and took over. I was the Catholic Church after Henry VIII’s whims, cast out, replaced by a religion that fitted him best. 

 

She left with that stranger one night, a stranger that had suddenly more impact on Her entire life in just a few days than I had in five years. Just because of blood. I told myself I understood. I still don’t really know if I did. 

 

But then, I met him. It seemed like my broken heart no longer needed nursing, like it was never broken in the first place. 

 

For a second, at least. 

 

He’d looked too out of place and yet exactly where he was supposed to be, between the shelves of dusty records that were older than both our ages combined. He had a trucker hat and glasses, and he was possibly the geekiest person I’d ever seen. All stereotypes of geeks combined in one short, blonde guy in a record shop. I remember exactly what he was holding despite having the shittiest memory in the history of shitty memories. _Small Change_ by Tom Waits. 

 

For once, irony was my companion instead of my enemy; this was anything but Small Changes. 

 

He looked up from the record and smiled, the first smile of a series that I can now call mine. His smile is infectious, and it turned out that I’d rather be lovesick than lovestruck. 

 

The rest is history. Cut my finger while chopping onions, came out red. Not the most romantic, and it was hard to tell whether the tears were due to joy or to the plants, but it didn’t matter. I found him. 

 

 

The rest is history. 

**Author's Note:**

> i lied. there's another song for this. 
> 
> i wanna be yours - arctic monkeys


End file.
